Too Sober
by MadhouseChaos
Summary: Your name is Roxy Lalonde and you get weird when you are sober. Cotton Candy monologue.


You haven't had a drink in a long while. Too long a while. You close your chat with Dirk. You wonder if he will woo Jake before classy little Jane gets her chance. Classy, beautiful, sweet, innocent little Jane. Something in you wants him too. You think that would hurt her quite a bit, especially since it's not something she can put off as drunken silliness at this moment. In fact right now that dial is set at no and rusted in place for good measure. You suppose you need to oil that up and switch it over soon. You get weird sober. You pet at the beard of a fake wizard and debate about which liquor you'll chug down tonight. You consider just swallowing the whole cabinet full. That is a bad idea and you know it. Not exactly any doctors around here that know how to cure alcohol poisoning. Maybe that's a good thing. Not for right now though. Not yet. Did you just think that? You need to get some into you fast.

You settle on a few martinis and head back to your room carefully balancing two drinks in each of your hands. You crash onto the pile of stuffed wizards and stretch out a little, sipping away. Your computer tings. Janey is trying to talk to you. You turn up your first glass. You are not yet ready for her to go on and on about that boy. Even if she doesn't really do that. Even if you only imagine it. Even if you press her for details because you want to know the qualities she likes about him. Even if you want to know because you want to posses those qualities. You don't know why you want to do that. You empty two more before doing a tipsy little jog to your laptop with the last drink in hand. You take a deep breath. You still don't open the chat. You have to wait for it to kick in. The booze. What else can you do? You contemplate whether or not Jake will actually go for Dirk. He seems open-minded enough certainly. If he does will she stop liking him? Will she like you? Why does that last thought make your chest flutter?

You decide to finish up your liquor and ignore the messages for now. For however long. The game is not quite happening yet. The game is not happening and you can rest for just a little while longer. You lean back. Will Jake and Jane meet when the game starts? Jane is in trouble, that batter-witch is trying to off your Janers. _Your_ Janers? You turn the screen off, lass scamper your way right on over to bed. You grab up a certain pillow and hug it close. You appearified it a long time ago. It's one of Jane's pillows. You only nabbed it because, well, where are you going to buy pillows around here? You can't exactly head round to the home goods store and flail about in a wide selection of comforting head laying devices. That is the only reason you have it. The reason you're hugging it tight is something you'd rather not get into, and if those damned Martinis ever do their job you won't have to.

The computer makes another familiar ting and you sigh. You head yourself right back to that computer and fiddle with the mouse until the screen is littered with pesterlogs again. Dirk messaged you, oh wait no, scratch that. The glasses messaged you. You are tempted to go into a round of heavy flirt-larping. You think that that is probably some of the only fun that AI gets to have, and some of the only flirts you give that make you receive some too. Dirk will never have any of your coy lady nonsense. Jake is some big hunk of gentleman. Jane will never understand.

You huff about it but you end up in a long conversation with the glasses. Stuff about him '*totally not staring at your ass'* when you '*fall faec first out of yoaur chari* *Chaair *chair'. Your typing is flawed and that's a good sign. A fucking great sign. You risk the conversation with Jane and it goes fine. You warn her about that dumb batter-witch again. She puts it off as nothing. She talks about baking recipes, you talk about some new blends. You ask her if she has told Jake and she says no. You pester her about it. She says some bullshit about how she isn't sure she likes him.

Then she has to go because her dad wants to bake with her or strife or something. Frigglish jumps into your lap and you pet his head. Then you pick him up, stand, and do a good dramatic exasperated sigh, fall back into soft pile of plushes combo. The academy would like to give you a fucking award for the sheer drama of it all. You wrote the book on one-sided romance. You even keep telling her to go for someone else. You keep telling her to stop being scared and tell him because really you desperately wish you could get enough of a backbone to tell _her_. Frigglish mews a complaint and scampers off.

You roll around in your wizard/cat pile for a bit. Messing up your perfectly styled hair, wrinkling your clothes. What's it matter? No one sees you except maybe those U trolls and neither of them are pestering you right now. Your computer tings and you ignore it. You'd rather take a nap in the wad of cotton-candy pink plushes.


End file.
